


pour vos pensées

by sunwukong



Category: Yu-Gi-Oh! 5D's
Genre: Coffee, M/M, Mixed Media, ygoshipolympics
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-27
Updated: 2015-06-27
Packaged: 2018-04-06 11:40:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 3,248
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4220325
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sunwukong/pseuds/sunwukong
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>coffee for your thoughts?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. BLACK; martha’s house

**Author's Note:**

> This is one of Team Kizuna's submissions for round 2 of the ygoshipolympics! The theme was "coffee" and the challenge was "thirst." Asa did the writing, Bao did the art, and everyone else held our hands as we marveled at our bad life decisions! You can see our other submissions [here!](http://ygoshipolympics.dreamwidth.org/2125.html?thread=18253#cmt18253)
> 
> Unfortunately, if you're viewing from mobile, the art will be cut off. :( Please choose pdf if downloading!

"Martha, what's that?"

"Hm?"

"This," Jack says, pointing a small, stubby finger at the jug on the table. It's filled with what looks like black water and smells intense, if unfamiliar. Martha's also set out a half a dozen mismatched cups, chipped and graying, next to a suspicious basket of bread. Jack takes some.

"Oh," she says, having glanced over. "It's coffee."

"Coffer?"

" _Coff-fee,_ " she corrects, and gives him and the stolen roll a knowing look. "Didn't I tell you we're expecting guests today?"

She didn't, but Crow and Yusei guessed as much that morning based on the chores she gave them. Jack sulked upon the revelation; he doesn't like it when Martha has guests, because that means a little less food for the rest of the week and a lot less attention at dinner for the night, plus Crow not shutting up about the visitor for the next few days. It's  _annoying_.

Martha's returned to washing pots and pans. She hands him a dishtowel, and Jack obediently dries one of the pots before putting both it and the towel back on the counter.

He's still staring at the coffee. Martha's never made anything like it for as far as he can remember, and he's offended.

"Can I have some?"

No response.

Jack pulls at her dress.

"What was that, dear?"

"Can I have some coffee?"

"Oh, you wouldn't like it," Martha says, emphatically shaking her head and pulling herself free of Jack's small grip. For good measure, she moves the coffee to the counter, out of his reach. "Coffee is for grown-ups, see?"

He doesn't see; it's too high up. But he's nine—practically a pre-teen—and crosses his arms, insulted. "Why?"

"Why what, dear?"

" _Why_  is it for grown-ups?" Why won't she  _listen_ to him today? "Who's coming over, anyway?"

"Oh, don't worry about it," she says, and ushers him away.

* * *

"Yusei," Jack says, and slams the door behind him. "I want to try coffee."

"Coffeet?" Yusei's on the floor, so intently focused on tying his shoe that he doesn't even look up. Two toes stick out of his sock on the other foot. A roll of tape and his other shoe sit next to him, like the shoes are too big and he's trying to force them in place.

" _Coffee_."

"What's that?" he asks, carefully examining his laces. He feels around for the tape and rips off a strip, agleting the end and then nodding to himself.

"It's that black drink that Martha put on the table for the guests or whatever," Jack says. "She said it was only for grown-ups."

"Oh," says Yusei. He wiggles his toes (presumably on both feet) and smiles, satisfied, before pulling on his other shoe and carefully ripping off more tape.

" _Well?_  Don't you wanna try it?"

"But," says Yusei, finally looking up, "it's for grown-ups."

"I'm taller than you," says Jack. "So I'm a grown-up."

Yusei frowns.

"Come  _on_ ," says Jack, rolling his eyes, and he drags Yusei out by the hand.

* * *

"Look, see?"

Balanced on the tips of his toes and one shoe (he lost the other on the stairs), Yusei notes wisely, "It smells nice."

"Yeah, that's why I wanna taste it."

"Me too," Yusei decides, plopping back on his feet. "I wonder if you can have it with milk, like tea?"

"No," says Jack. "That's stupid."

"Hey, whatcha guys doin'?"

It's Crow; he's covered in dirt and tilting his head, like he was rolling around in the mud or helping Martha garden.

"Me and Jack are gonna drink coffer," says Yusei, pointing up at the counter. Crow's eyes follow the trajectory painfully slowly, but when they rest on the target he gags.

"Ewwww, no, it's gross, don't try it!"

"If you're a  _baby_ , maybe," Jack scowls, because how does  _Crow_  know what it tastes like?! And what does he know, anyway? His resolve settles even more; now he needs to drink a whole cup just to prove he's cooler than Crow. "Yusei, help me up."

"Um, okay," says Yusei, and crouches, holding up his hands for Jack to use a step. Jack climbs on and swipes for the coffee, triumphantly grabs the handle, and—stumbles, falling back into Yusei, slamming into Crow, spilling black liquid everywhere, getting it in his clothes and the floor and it's  _hot_ and  _burns_  and "Oww!"

Crow laughs. Yusei doesn't really want to try it anymore. Jack pours himself a glass, sticks it in the fridge, and later spits it out.

* * *

"So," says Martha, arms on her hips as she watches the three of them mop, "did you boys want to try coffee?"

"No," says Jack.

"That's okay," says Yusei.

"Okay!" says Crow, and Martha gives him a cup she pulls out of the fridge—topped with milk and cream and smelling like chocolate and marshmallows.

 


	2. KC INSTANT; the hideout

The hideout is warm in the winter and sticky in the summer and spiders spin webs on every wall, but Yusei doesn’t budge from underground. Jack guesses he finds it a welcome change from the rooftop; once they were on top of the world, and now they’re six feet under. 

Jack still needs the sunlight, though. Yusei can work on that damn bike for hours or days or weeks, but Jack gets claustrophobic, like he grew too much in the past year and the world didn’t grow with him or even stay the same—it shrunk. _Jack and Yusei_ to _Jack and Yusei and Crow_ to _Jack and Yusei and Crow and Kiryu_ to just Jack and Yusei again, hiding underground where, fifteen years ago, a subway might’ve taken Yusei’s parents to and from work everyday. Maybe Jack’s, too.

That’s why, when he gets frustrated enough with sitting on a chair alone in the dark all day or seeing Yusei type at his laptop all night, he’ll say, “Let’s go to the junkyard tomorrow, alright?”

And Yusei will say, “Okay,” and then spend the entire time scavenging through piles of trash while Jack looks to the horizon, wondering why the sun has to set so far.

But at least they’re there together.

They go back when the light runs out so they’ve no choice. Yusei yawns, small and muffled in his palm, but he doesn’t sleep. He never sleeps. All he does is work on the bike. 

There’s something he’s hiding from. Kiryu. Jack. Maybe himself. He doesn’t speak unless it’s to the wheels or the monitor, like he’s pouring his damn soul into it, where no one can see or hear any feasible part of him until the engine finally runs long enough for a duel. He doesn’t eat or drink unless it’s Rally giving it to him—or, after one particular trip to the yard, a cup of instant coffee he poured cold Satellite water into in the hopes of staying alert.

You know, in case he does _literally anything else_ or something.

It pisses Jack off.

At first it’s one cup a day. When he sees the cup and smells something vaguely familiar Jack wrinkles his nose and snarls in disgust, resists the urge to slam the cup all over Yusei’s laptop.

Then it goes to two and Jack says, “Yusei, you’re literally drinking trash,” and Yusei says, “Nothing’s trash,” which is bullshit, obviously, but it’s impossible to argue with Yusei when he says that.

So Jack just steals the mix and throws it in the water.

The next day, Yusei’s the one who asks to go to the junkyard. 

“What, more parts?” growls Jack, glaring at the bike.

“No,” says Yusei, and so Jack follows.

* * *

He wanted coffee.

He didn’t find any, and he didn’t ask Jack to look, but he did say what he was looking for and he did scavenge through trash looking for it. Around dusk he gave up, and they returned to the hideout with only two copper wires and a broken TV antenna. Yusei twists and turns them while they’re walking back, sets them right into the machine as soon as he can, and tests the engine.

But that night he also falls asleep.

* * *

“Whoa,” a familiar voice is saying when Jack saunters in the next morning, “nice place ya got here.”

Yusei must smirk, because Jack hears his noncommittal laugh. Crow means it, though, and he’s right—comparatively, it’s nice, and the other gangs probably won’t find them.

“Yo,” Crow puts up a hand in greeting when Jack comes into view, but then turns back to the bike and whistles. “Damn, Yusei, I’d ask how you did it all in like a week, but it’s _you_ , so...”

“It wasn’t a week,” Yusei mutters, because it can’t have been—Kiryu was arrested months ago, and ever since…

“He hasn’t slept in one, though,” Jack puts in.

“Yeah, right,” says Crow. Now that Jack’s closer, he can see a bag over Crow’s shoulder and a new marker on his forehead, but his height is the same as it was when their team was officially done for.

Jack looks pointedly at the empty mug on a table nearby, still stained with the drip-marks of coffee, ring after ring underneath it. “This guy just runs on petrol.”

Crow blinks. “What?”

“Caffeine jolts your system,” Yusei says. “That’s why…” He trails off, looking expectantly at Crow.

“What? Oh, yeah.” Crow shrugs off his bag and pulls out a small, plastic bagful of KC Instant. He presents it to Yusei with both hands and a bow, and Jack wants to break them. “Ta-da! I found some for ya. Wasn’t cheap, though.”

Yusei smiles. “Thanks. Do you guys wanna try?”

“Like hell,” Crow says, snorting. “I wouldn’t try anything from the black market if you paid me in Black Feather.”

Yusei gets up anyway and pours out the water, says that it helps him focus, tacitly admitting that the focus drives other things away, that by the end of the night and the rush he’s so exhausted he has no time to think too much or dream. Minutes later, he presents three cups; all of them leak, but Crow appreciates the existence of a third one at all, and keeps a towel along the bottom.

They sit around Yusei’s laptop because Yusei refuses to leave its side. He types periodically, nodding to himself. Jack doesn’t touch his drink.

Crow, though, takes a sip. Then he coughs, spits it out, and wipes his mouth on his sleeve.

“This is _shit_.”


	3. ???; neo domino city

Neo Domino makes him sick.

Literally. It literally makes him sick. The first week at Godwin’s and he has breakfast, lunch, and dinner, all multi-course meals, and it makes him sick, something about how fancy the food is and how fancy his stomach isn’t.

He throws it up. All of it. It all goes straight into Godwin’s toilet, down a pipe, all the way back to Satellite.

He yells at Godwin about it first, shouldn’t he know better, what the hell is this, but Godwin just says that Jack’’ll get used to it. That he’ll get used to a lot of things, like the food and the air and indoor plumbing. Of being King.

And Jack does. He gets used to pure water and Wi-Fi and getting things done when he orders people around. He gets used to having his clothes washed by other people, of a new, blinding shade of white that he could get used to, of peanuts coming shelled. 

He gets used to a micromanaged life, where all his decisions are made for him and where, in the end, what he wants doesn’t actually matter.

“This isn’t what I signed up for,” Jack declares, and Godwin just looks him up and down once before saying, carefully, “Yes, it is.”


	4. NAZCA SINGLE ORIGIN DRIP; public security maintenance bureau

“Jack,” says Godwin, arms folded behind his back. “I need you to quench your thirst.”


	5. STARDUST FRAPPUCCINO; emancipation station

He wants to die. He wants to kill something, and then he wants to die.

She’s trying to be a morning person. She’s not. 

At all. 

She has something like seven alarms set from 6AM to noon and every time one goes off she hits snooze. Twice. Finally at something like 12:56 she actually hauls herself out of bed, noisily pours cereal in her bowl and on the floor, yells at herself for being terrible, accidentally melts her tupperware in the microwave, makes herself tea, forgets about the tea, spills her cold tea on the floor, etc.

Then she vacuums.

And all this happens, notably, while she’s on the phone with her boss, a man whose voice happens to be so loud that Jack can clearly hear him ask how her piece on Jack Atlas, the former king, is going.

She says she’s working on it.

Finally she hangs up and sighs, loud and hard, asks herself, “What am I going to _do_?!”, says, “I know! A shower will clear my head!”, and blissful peace arrives for approximately seven minutes before she bursts into showtunes at the top of her lungs.

Showtunes.

By that point Jack figures he’s not going to die and/or wake up as the king/with Yusei again anytime soon, so he might as well get up and demand breakfast.

* * *

“What?!” She’s dressed in her day clothes and desperately opening, slamming, and reopening cabinets, while he’s in his tank on the couch, glaring at the curtains. “I-I don’t have anything left!”

He stares at her. She gulps.

“B-But, um, we can go out? Would that work? Oh, but you can’t go out like that…” 

He grumbles, plays dress up, and stalks out the door. She has to chase him down the street, which is satisfying in that it takes her the better part of an hour to track him down. When she finds him she’s out of breath, keels over with hands on her knees, and he still hasn’t been fed; the plan was a sandwich at the corner Starbucks on the main avenue, but when he saw their new sign and logo, he couldn’t go in.

“What the hell is that,” Jack says, twisting her around so she sees, too.

“Starbucks? Oh my god, I can’t afford that, Jack!”

“ _No_ ,” he says, “the _dragon_.”

To which she looks up and sees it: the new logo, a miniature, vectored version of Yusei’s dragon in green, and the text above it: _Stardust Coffee_.

“Oh,” she says, eyes wide behind her glasses, like, _you didn’t know_? “They, um, I think they kind of rebranded, like, after you…” She looks away. “Lost…?”

Jack grabs her hand and stomps inside.

To the barista, with his hands slammed on the counter, face leaning in, teeth gritted: “Give. Me. The. Specialty.”

“What?!? Jack, I can’t afford that!”

(In the end, she can; they get a discount if Jack promises to leave).


	6. BLUE EYES MOUNTAIN; the garage

“Oh my _god_ , what the hell is _this_?! Jack!”

“I’m sure I don’t know,” Jack says, eyes still trained on the TV. It’s a re-run; an old match of his and a fan favorite that Jack’s scrutinizing, to see whether the victory is truly his. He’s focused, fingers steepled, and starts to think that it definitely is—but is interrupted when something fouling smelling appears in his vicinity and a trashcan follows, Crow holding the wastebasket at eye-level for Jack’s benefit.

“Really? You don’t know?” There’s a styrofoam cup inside, stained with old coffee.

Jack scoffs and shoves Crow away. “Trash.”

“No such thing,” he hears the automatic response from behind them.

Jack ignores Yusei, but turns his attention to Crow, and says, “Remove this from my presence. And remove yourself while you’re at it.”

Instead, Crow shifts, apron and all, so that he’s blocking the TV. Jack leans from one side to the other before slamming his hands on the armrests and shooting up. “Move!”

“ _Why_ is Albert’s _gift_ in the _trash_ , Jack?!”

“Because,” he says, levelly, “it’s trashy. Obviously.”

“ _You’re_ trashy! That was from a loving old grandpa who didn’t have enough money! He made that himself! What the _hell_ are you drinking right now?”

“Hmph,” says Jack, and sits back down, eyes closed. “A frappuccino,” he says, because he and Carly have grown addicted, “from Blue Eyes Mountain.”

“ _I am going to throw you off a Blue Eyes Mountain_.”


	7. HIM; that damn desk

They finally learn to whisper when Crow tells them to keep it down after midnight. Jack would’ve yelled at them for it earlier, but it gave him a perverse satisfaction to have yet another annoying disturbance to pin on Bruno.

“... So what do you think? Do you like it? Do you love it?”

They’re not very good at it. There’s nothing subtle in the sip.

“Yusei?”

“It tastes different. I like it a lot.” 

Or the sigh. Upstairs, he can still hear the grin, sheepish.

“It took me a while to perfect it.”

“It’s good.”

And the chairs, screeching, moving closer together. The typing stopped a while ago, their rhythm lulling to quiet, private.

“I’m glad you think so, Yusei.”

“Hmm... I’m still a little sleepy, though.”

In the morning, Bruno will regret using Jack’s cup.


	8. BLUE BOTTLE GIANT STEP; san francisco

He doesn’t get to see the moon as often as he once did, or at least not as shining and round. When he was King, standing by the bridge was a once-a-month affair; him, a ruler, in wait for something greater.

Now he’s an ocean away, and closing his eyes he imagines the velocity at which he’ll reclaim his title; the same stage, the same people, the same Neo Domino air that he left behind. It’ll be his. He’ll just reach out and take it.

This time he’s not the one waiting.

He’s almost ready.


	9. ROSATI ESPRESSO; rome, italy

 

“So Jack won?”

“Who do you think I am?”

“You really think this manchild would have the balls to show his face if he didn’t?”

On the screen, Yusei smiles. Years later, even in the shirt and collar, he’s the same as always. “I’m glad," he says. "You’ll have to give me the play-by-play.”

“Wait, whaaaat?” Crow slams his free hand on the table, nearly spilling his drink, messing up the pattern in Jack's. “You mean you didn’t watch the stream?!”

“I had it open,” Yusei admits, but... “… I kind of fell asleep.”

“What? Yusei!”

“You had the audacity to fall asleep while _I_ was dueling? To ignore _my_ voice?”

“Hey, what about me?! C’mon, Yusei, I had a new Synchro and everything!”

“It was late,” Yusei says, quietly, and he's honestly apologetic, they can see it in his eyes. “I have to get up pretty early for work, but I stayed up until the first turn, and… kind of crashed, myself.”

Looking like that, a little slumped, a little drooping, it’s hard not to forgive him.

“Then,” says Jack, clenching his fist, “you’ll have to be riding with us next time.”

A light appears on Yusei’s face that shines through the videofeed. He nods, a vigorous, “Of course.”

Italy is farther than America, but in these small moments, a drink with Crow and sort-of-Yusei after an intense match they’d all been waiting for, somehow the distance feels smaller and larger all at once.

“Timezones are really a drag, huh?” Crow leans back in his chair, arms folded behind his head. He takes a sip of his drink, sighing. “Man, it’s not as fun to watch if you already know who won.”

“...You know,” Yusei says, “Ushio gave me his old coffeemaker the other day. I usually just go for milk in the morning, so I’ve no use for it now, but…”

They sit up.

“...maybe you would?”


	10. ABSOLUTE GARBAGE; home.

“We’re hooome!”

“Welcome back.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! If you liked this fic, please [put in a vote for us at Round 2 of the ship olympics](http://ygoshipolympics.tumblr.com/post/124553413308/round-2-voting). You don't need to be participating -- you just need a Google account! This fic is entry Kizunashipping (1).


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